Complimenting your Intelligence
by Aunt Flora
Summary: After Rhett makes a bold suggestion to Scarlett, they discuss the pros and cons of various arrangements. Life progress from there, as it will tend to do.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

 _Author note: due to a lot of forthright but nevertheless well-reasoned reviews, I may need to hold off on the next chapter of ASOGAC for longer than my usual posting schedule of every two days to do a little re-tooling. I offer the following sketch with my apologies. It's not necessarily connected with the other story but not necessarily disconnected either. It is, as so many stories here are, a slight change to a conversation that sort of happened to me this past weekend. This first section in italics is directly from the canon as per the Project Gutenberg ebook._

* * *

 _"Are you asking me to marry you?"_

 _He dropped her hand and laughed so loudly she shrank back in her chair. "Good Lord, no! Didn't I tell you I wasn't a marrying man?"_

 _"But-but-what-"_

 _He rose to his feet and, hand on heart, made her a burlesque bow. "Dear," he said quietly, "I am complimenting your intelligence by asking you to be my mistress without having first seduced you."_

 _Mistress! Her mind shouted the word, shouted that she had been vilely insulted. But in that first startled moment she did not feel insulted. She only felt a furious surge of indignation that he should think her such a fool. He must think her a fool if he offered her a proposition like that, instead of the proposal of matrimony she had been expecting. Rage, punctured vanity and disappointment threw her mind into a turmoil and, before she even thought of the high moral grounds on which she should upbraid him, she blurted out the first words which came to her lips- "Mistress! What would I get out of that except a passel of brats?" And then her jaw dropped in horror as she realized what she had said._

 _He laughed until he choked, peering at her in the shadows as she sat, stricken dumb, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth. "That's why I like you! You are the only frank woman I know, the only woman who looks on the practical side of matters without beclouding the issue with mouthings about sin and morality. Any other woman would have swooned first and then shown me the door."_

* * *

He was right and she'd done it all wrong. Whatever would mother say? Scarlett stood up, all angry rage and humiliation. "I could kill you!"

"Calm down." Rhett was still for a moment, but then burst out laughing again.

"I don't see what's so funny." A line formed between her eyes as she tried to puzzle it out.

"You never understand a good joke."

Rage erupted again. She stomped toward the door. "I don't know why I even let you come."

His hand around her wrist stopped her. "Yes you do. And it has nothing to do with the gifts I bring you."

She stared at her arm, encircled by his. "You're just a varmint, a cad."

"Granted." His mustache tickled her fingers as he kissed the palm of her hand. "What if you liked it?"

"I don't," she said with firm authority.

"How do you know?"

"I have a son. I know."

"You believe you can't enjoy love with a man on the basis of what a fumbling boy did to you? How long did you have? One or two nights?"

"It was enough," she said around the lump that was in her throat as Rhett continued to kiss her hand and then the inside of her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Proving you wrong. Your pulse is like a speeding train, Scarlett. I think it's very possible that you could enjoy your time with me greatly-if you let yourself."

"If I-I'll have you know that I'm not that sort... there's no way I would..."

His lips were back on her wrist, but then he pulled her closer and applied them to her throat. "I can feel your pulse here, too." Sliding a hand between them, he placed it flat over her left breast. "It's like a triphammer, here."

She pulled away then, and nearly swore. "How can you? Someone might see us!"

He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. "What of it?"

"What of it?" she hissed. "We'd be, I'd be..."

"Compromised," he said with a shrug. "I will ask you again. What of it?"

She sat heavily on the porch steps. He would never marry her. He hadn't married that girl when he was younger, and now that he had no reputation, it was unthinkable. "What would I get out of it besides a passel of brats?" she asked in a neutral tone of voice. "You're asking me to give up everything."

"Nothing that really matters."

"You're asking me to give up being respectable, to give up my family and everything that makes me secure. And what am I supposed to do when you decide you don't want me any more, and how will I take care of the children you're going to leave me with?"

"It will all be fine, Scarlett."

"That's easy for you to say." Hot as it was, she suddenly felt cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and bent over her legs.

He sat beside her and put his arm around her. "Maybe it is too much to ask, and yet I ask it. Scarlett, I want more than that. I want you to give up your memories of other men, too. I want you to become completely and unutterably mine."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because of this." His lips were suddenly on hers. His mouth obliterated every thought in her head. She went hot and cold and shaky. She was filled with a wild longing and a joyful pleasure. She would have fallen over if he wasn't holding her.

And then as suddenly as it began, it stopped, and he pulled away. He stared at her in the moonlight, trying to get a sense of what she was thinking. She stared at his tie, trying to decide what she was thinking, herself.

"Scarlett?"

"I don't know, Rhett. It frightens me."

"What does?"

"That feeling. It went all through me. I wanted it, I wanted _more_ , but what if it overwhelms me?"

He pulled her close with a sigh. "You probably shouldn't tell all of your suitors that. Some might want to take advantage of making you feel that way."

She pulled away. "Don't you want to take advantage of it?"

"No," he said. "I wanted to share something with you to our mutual enjoyment. I have no intention of hurting you, and I don't want to take advantage of you. Did you like it at all?"

She turned honest eyes to him. "Ye-es. Even now I feel as though I want more. Can you tell me what it is?"

"Simple passion, my dear." He leaned back on a column, away from her. "I should have restrained myself. I gather you're not ready."

"How could I be ready? You never told me what's in it for me. What's to become of me after you don't want me any more?"

He reached out and traced a loose curl of hair. "You've been in my thoughts since I met you, and I can't imagine the day you won't be. If it does happen however, I would see you set up with your own home and an allowance in some place like New Orleans or Paris, where such relationships are less frowned upon. You would quickly find a new lover or maybe even a husband, I'm sure."

"So I'd be exiled in fact as well as socially," she whispered sadly. "I don't think I can do that. You're right, I don't like being exactly like all the other mealy-mouthed peahens in Atlanta, but I can't-that _can't_ be my life."

"You almost sound as if you want to do it," he mused. He picked up her hand and kissed it affectionately but without any real passion. "What were you planning to say if I'd done the conventional thing and declared myself, offering a proper marriage?"

She scooted back until she was facing him with her back against the adjacent column. "I never can tell," she said wearily. "I planned to let you down, gently but firmly, and have the memory to hold over your head forever after, but you always get the upper hand somehow."

He laughed, throwing off the intensity of the conversation. "An opportunity lost for me, I'm sure."

She sighed. "We'll never know, since you are not a marrying man."

"But you, my dear, will not stay unmarried forever. The war will end and someone will think you're just what he wants. He will snap you up quickly, and there you'll be, perfectly respectable."

It sounded boring when he put it like that. "Do you think he'll have that passion?"

"I'm sure he'll feel passion, but whether or not he cares about your passions I could not guess. I don't see much of it in the men you're likely to meet and marry."

She made an annoyed sound. "You're saying I have a choice between ruining myself completely or lying underneath another man like Charlie forever. Women don't get very good options."

He moved closer to her and caressed her cheek. "I could set you up with a home of your own here, but everyone would know."

Just from his nearness she felt that power start to rise within her. "Is there no other way?"

"Oh, Scarlett," he whispered. He kissed her again, gently. The passion moderated to a gentle breeze that led her to kiss him back. Her fingertips explored the hair at the back of his head. He traced the sides of her face and oh so tenderly ended the kiss to press his lips to her eyes and forehead and in her hair. His hands shifted to her shoulders as his lips traced her throat.

"Why do I feel this way?" she asked.

"Tell me about the man you love," he whispered. "Does he make you feel like this? Do you crave his touch? Would you let him come this close to you and kiss you, and touch you like I'm doing?"

Scarlett realized his lips were well down the opened collar of her basque and his hand was flat against her lower stomach, right where something was leaping to life within her.

"Please-"

Rhett looked into her eyes, into the innocence that still possessed her, and knew she was his for the taking. He realized as well that if he took her, she would never be his.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

Scarlett couldn't stop thinking about Rhett's question. _Tell me about the man you love. Does he make you feel like this?_ She tried to imagine, based on the one kiss she'd received from Ashley what it would be like if he were kissing her throat and chest the way Rhett had.

She couldn't imagine him actually doing it, based upon their one kiss at Christmas. Ashley had kissed her as if there was something distasteful about it, even hateful. Rhett had kissed her as though he wanted to consume her in a fire. Ashley had left her feeling abandoned, but Rhett had left her feeling like something within her was on the cusp of being complete. He'd stopped kissing her the other night and had tapped her nose, promising to visit later. Scarlett knew a moment of longing, wishing that whatever it was could have continued, but feeling as though the moment was enough for now until he came back.

But Rhett was bad for her; Rhett himself said it more than once. That meant his kisses, for all that they made her feel delicious, were bad, too. And Ashley was the opposite of Rhett, except... could she say it was good for Ashley to kiss her when he had a wife? Even if Melanie wasn't the wife he _should_ have, he had still taken vows and sworn to live by those vows. That would mean his kiss with Scarlett at Christmas was... She would have to think about that one tomorrow.

She looked at her hair in the mirror. Rhett might come tonight, and he always liked to see her make an effort to be pretty, even when there was no food or nice dresses and when it was so hot that whatever she did was sure to look wilted. He didn't always compliment her. He was quite stingy with his compliments, in fact. His eyes, though, would gleam, and she would know that he thought she looked pretty when she saw that light in them.

* * *

When had it gone wrong? He asked himself the same question. He'd almost had her with the hat. _She_ was almost asking _him_ for kisses. It wasn't very far from there to getting her to admit that she liked him better than any other man she'd known. If only she would realize it. He sighed. There was a very definite cooling off after the hat, but he never knew what happened.

He waited in the shadows until Mrs. Meade went home, and then stepped up as Scarlett was reaching to unfasten the hook that held the door open. "Allow me," he said quietly, standing so close to her back that she could barely breathe and reaching up along where she was already reaching. After the door was unfastened, he stepped back and she was able to turn around and face him. "Good evening, dear Mrs. Hamilton."

She stepped back and found the chair she usually sat in. "Good evening Captain Butler." For a moment as she moved, she was silhouetted against the lamplight of the inside hallway, and he lost his breath. Scarlett knew that she was appealing to men, but in her strange innocence, she had no idea what she looked like. How to begin the conversation tonight?

"Have you ever loved a woman?" she suddenly asked.

"What a question!" he responded, for once off his footing. What would she ask next?

"I just wondered. You asked, the other night, if the man I love made me feel the way you do. So when you're like that with women, do you love them? You've had quite a few lady friends, I take it."

He pondered it. "It's an interesting question." He leaned on the porch rail, lit a cigar, and stared at her. It was a predicament, and he had to cut as closely to the truth as possible this time. Any other response would send her into a rage and then it would be months before she would let him do so much as tip his hat to her. He took a long drag to steady himself, and answered. "It's never quite like that with other women."

"That's not true!" she hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You know so much of my heart?"

"I know that you are close enough to that Watling creature that she has your handkerchiefs." She bit it off as though it hurt her. It was important.

"How did you come by this piece of information?"

"She gave one to Melly, full of gold pieces for the hospital... that no doubt came from you, for... for..." Having got the essentials of her tirade out, she ended in a whimper.

"My dealings with Belle are none of your business, but very much mine."

"But if you're sharing a bed with her and want to share a bed with me, don't I have a right to know?"

"In a word-no." Was that entirely true? Was he going to just tell her about Belle without some sort of reciprocation?

"Oh." She rose and walked toward the door. "I don't know what I was-I beg your pardon."

"Scarlett," he reached out and took her hand. He brought her back to the porch rail, and then pulled her close and cupped her cheek. "I own the house she operates her business in. We may have other concerns together, but I have never felt for her or any other woman what I do for you when I do this." He leaned down and kissed her, barely controlling the groan that threatened to rip through him.

Scarlett didn't know what was happening to her. He had pulled her close so that she was standing between his legs, and she was very much aware of standing entirely closer than she ever had to a man before, almost in the same space as him. His one hand was still cupping her cheek while the other was kneading her back before dipping down to grab a handful of her skirt. Her own body was betraying her, arching toward him, sighing in bliss at being pressed against him tight enough to feel his vest buttons against her belly. Her sigh allowed him to lick her lips open, and then his tongue was against her teeth and finally her own tongue, which was curious enough to play with his. He groaned and pulled away. " _Scarlett_ , what are we doing?"

"I thought you were... I don't know. I thought you knew what to do. You always know what to do."

He pulled her close to his chest. She could hear his heart beating so very quickly, like her own. "Tell me, my sweet, does the man you love make you feel this way?"

"I thought," she started, "I thought, back when you first started taking me to the picnics and balls and bazaars, that it almost felt like I was in love with you."

His hands on her shoulders moved her back so that she was standing away from him now. She could feel his face become intent. "What did that feel like?"

"As though I came alive or the party was better just because you were in the room."

It was there, just about within his grasp.

"Do you still think that?"

"When Melly showed me that handkerchief, she had no idea that it was yours, but I did. It was exactly like your other ones. It hurt, Rhett."

"What if I felt the same for you?"

"You almost feel like you're in love with me?" She stepped further away. "But you're-you have dealings with-Belle Watling."

"It's nothing like this," he said, "and it will be nothing at all if you say yes."

"Yes to what?"

"Yes, you'll be my mistress."

Her shoulders sagged. _Of course._ She tried not to be too disappointed that it was all he wanted. After all, he was about to be disappointed, too.

"You know I can't."

"Is it the passel of brats? I wouldn't mind a passel of brats, not your brats, any way. You could leave them with me when you move on." If I ever let you move on, he thought, as the idea of having children with her entranced him.

She shook her head. "You know I can't. I appreciate what you've shown me. I'm sure I'll never find anything like it with any other man, but I can't do that."

There was a flare of a match as he lit a new cigar. "How long are you staying in Atlanta?"

"Doctor Meade says Melly has to stay until-" She broke off in embarrassment before continuing- "and he thinks it will be next month."

"And you plan to leave as soon as that's over? You won't be able to leave her here."

Scarlett sighed. "I'll have to take her with me, and the baby."

"You know it will be nearly impossible to get anywhere west of the city."

"I have to go home, Rhett. I want my mother."

"Hush, my sweet." She was in his arms again, but this time he was soothing her. "We will get you to Tara somehow."

"Oh, Rhett, sometimes you're so nice."

"Sometimes you are too, my dear."

 _A/N: Thank you for all the love shown to this story. I wasn't planning to continue it, and if it goes too far down the road it's on, I'll have to take it into an alternate universe, which would mean completely re-writing the last two thirds of the book. Thanks to readers and reviewers, especially **rhett's love, Guest,** **gabyhyatt** , and **Romabeachgirl1981**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

Belle Watling knew the exact moment she lost _her_ war. It was the moment Rhett Butler asked her about the donation she made to the hospital. She tried to play it off, but it was no use to explain that she didn't realize it was his handkerchief she was using. He knew her too well. He knew how she hated Scarlett and that she would do anything to keep Scarlett from trusting Rhett.

"It's the meddling, Belle! You're treating me as though you think I'm just a child, too foolish to know my own mind or the risks of what I'm going to do. You decided to take it out of my hands and cause a problem that didn't need to exist."

"She's going to break your heart! She will never be what you want! She can't! She'll never understand you... that's what the handkerchief showed. And it was last year! Why bring it up, now?"

"The handkerchief showed that she cares enough to be hurt, maybe even that she's capable of being jealous. When it might not matter-when she didn't know what we could be like together-she didn't want to bring it up."

 _What were they like together?_ Had they-was the scheming, green-eyed bitch already in his bed?

"There may only be one chance that this will work out, but I need to take it. She's the love of my life, Belle."

They hadn't consummated their romance. Not yet, but soon. He had a certain power, a vibrancy that told her he'd overcome Belle's obstacle and perhaps most of the others. She should leave and attend to her business, but for some reason she stayed and watched him gather his belongings. Every word was a knife in her heart, but they were words from _him_ , and she would keep them embedded in her heart until she died. It made her think of her son. "What about-"

"I made that commitment irregardless of anything that was between us, and my reasons for doing so still exist. I'll honor it until his education is complete."

She gave a sigh of relief. At least the one practical matter that she depended upon Rhett for would be covered, and if he forced the issue, she could probably afford to buy the house. That left the impractical matter. "Rhett, why not stay here the night, one more time? Give me a chance to make it up to you?"

He snapped his suitcase shut. "I'm really not in the mood, Belle."

"Come on, Rhett, we both know that's not true. You're _always_ in the mood."

He smiled and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm not in the mood, Belle. Don't make me say it plainer than that."

 _Not in the mood for me_ , she realized. He was always in the mood, as long as she chased him. For a long time that had been her only consolation. He was always quite clear that he didn't want to have to chase after maiden-minded ladies. It was just this one, who was not the least bit ladylike, whom he wanted to chase. So now it appeared he was so close to his goal that he was willing to give up Belle's easy advances. It really was over, then. "Take care of yourself, Rhett. Remember you'll always have a friend here if she doesn't work out."

* * *

Mrs. Meade sat on the Hamilton front porch with twisted lips. Scarlett _would_ insist on sitting out there, fanning herself and visiting with all and sundry who would walk past. For the most part, the people who came were just being friendly, but there was one who everyone knew would take advantage if he could. That one held them all hostage in his way. They had to be extra careful to make sure he wouldn't transgress too far. No one cared if that fast girl ended up in a gutter; she was destined for such things, anyway. The reflection upon Melly, Pittypat, and even poor Charlie was what made the people of Atlanta so protective of Scarlett. Charlie and Melanie, who'd been the playmate of Mrs. Meade's own Darcy. For Melly, and for the memory of those other two boys, Mrs. Meade would make sure that Rhett Butler kept his hands off Scarlett Hamilton.

Captain Butler had been scarce at the Hamilton house since before Phil came on his furlough. He'd been around town, of course, smoking his cigars and smiling lazily at everyone and sundry. Mrs. Meade hadn't seen him at the Hamiltons lately. Perhaps Scarlett, in one of her rare moments of propriety, had finally sent him on his way. Mrs. Meade wasn't certain of that, though. All too frequently they had thought they were finally rid of the man, only to see that impudent smile at the next bazaar or picnic.

The war wasn't over, and even if there wasn't a battle to fight tonight, Mrs. Meade, good general that she was, would continue to guard her territory. She would bore Scarlett with her reminisces of better days and her hopes for the current battles being fought entirely too closely. Scarlett would itch and fume, because she hated any conversation not about her self, but she was too grounded by her mother in proper behavior toward her elders. She would behave herself all the while various expressions went over her face as she thought about whatever it was that went through her mind. At least she would behave for now, while the rules established by her great-grandparents still held sway.

A cooler breeze blew through; it wouldn't last although it was welcome as a momentary thing. Scarlett stirred, rolling her neck and smiling with her eyes closed like a cat. Mrs. Meade stopped and looked at her for the first time that day. She was such a sensuous creature, and now she looked positively indecent. The waist of her dress was unbuttoned far too low, and she was sitting with a most unladylike posture.

Her entire attitude reminded Mrs. Meade of... she recalled seeing herself look something like that in a mirror, more than twenty-five years before. In those days Doctor Meade's practice was much less busy and he had far more time for his young wife. Darcy would have been just twenty-four-it came as an irrelevant thought. Mrs. Meade's eyes flew open. Scarlett _couldn't_ have. Something made Scarlett shift and sit up. Her eyes cleared and she looked at Mrs. Meade contritely, somewhat shamed into being more ladylike. Mrs. Meade looked into those green eyes. They were still willful and spoiled, and definitely childish. She'd had no time to become more than the most superficial of wives to Charlie and hadn't lost the newness of girlhood. She couldn't look like that if the Captain had managed to seduce her. If she'd spent even a few minutes in a bed with Rhett Butler, everyone would _know_.

Therefore, Mrs. Meade sat on the Hamilton front porch with twisted lips. No one cared if that fast girl ended up in a gutter, but for the sake of Melly and Pitty, and for the memory of dear Charlie and even Darcy, Mrs. Meade would make sure that Rhett Butler kept his hands off Scarlett Hamilton.

* * *

Hours later, Melanie stood next to the bed and leaned over it, resting her hands on it and letting the baby's weight shift away from where it had been all day. This was harder on her back so she would never be able to hold it long, but it gave a little relief to her hips. She walked back and forth past the window. And leaned over the bed some more. She could hear the mumble of their voices on the front porch but not what was said. But then they were quiet for so long at a time.

Melanie hoped that Rhett's intentions were honorable. She knew he and Scarlett were attracted to each other in a bold, naked way that would have been far too much for herself and Ashley. Perhaps their passions would overwhelm them; that would bring disaster to Scarlett and that would ultimately hurt Melanie. If Rhett hurt Scarlett, then Ashley as her nearest male relative, would have to try to settle matters with Rhett. Gerald O'Hara couldn't be expected to do it. He was too old, and Rhett had run circles around him the last time. So Ashley would have to do it. He would be killed and they would all be ruined.

She trusted Rhett's self control and the kindness that underlay everything in him. He was a much finer man than so many people gave him credit for, finer than Scarlett would ever see. Melanie thought perhaps Scarlett sensed how fine he was and that perhaps Scarlett would come to appreciate it despite not really knowing or understanding it. There were hidden qualities in Scarlett that simply existed without being acknowledged or needing to acknowledge their counterparts.

Melanie was familiar with the idea of a force of nature, but until she met Scarlett she'd never properly understood it. Scarlett wasn't just full of fire and passion and force, she was also natural. She didn't need to be well-educated because she simply understood so much about life. Ashley had described her as such long ago when they had courted in the parlor. India's hintings about Scarlett had fallen on deaf ears. Yes, Ashley admired Scarlett immensely, but no more than Melanie herself did, more as an idea than a real person. The real person was simply too overwhelming, even if the idea of her was thrilling.

Melanie got back into the bed. Just the little bit of exercise tired her. Perhaps she'd be able to sleep soon. If not, perhaps she could hear the soft sighs and muffled groans well enough to imagine her own romance.

 _A/N: This was just a single sketch, until it was two, and now here are three mini sketches to make up the third chapter. I'm posting it because it's ready, not because I have any particular schedule in mind, unlike ASOGAC, of which there is already another 25k words written so I can keep doing the every other day thing. Thanks so much for the feedback from people like **rhett's love, gabyhyatt, sj372419, SPCLjmm, Guest 1 & 2, Snowandbows, Romabeachgirl1981, ****gumper,** and **Truckee Gal**._


	4. Chapter 4

_The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

 _A/N: There will be no note at the bottom of this chapter for artistic reasons. As always, I'd like to thank the readers and reviewers of this story, including gabyhyatt,_ Truckee Gal, Guest, Romabeachgirl1981, and Jguest.

 _This chapter is M for content._

The war made it hard for women to get quite as many underclothes as they were used to wearing. The result of this was that if Rhett laid his hand just so on the underside of Scarlett's breast, quite a bit of it was pushed up above the neckline of her dress. His lips were thereby granted quite a bit of access that he didn't usually have. Rhett Butler wasn't used to needing such machinations when enjoying a woman's body, but none of the women he'd enjoyed to this point in his life worried so much about their clothes when spending time with him, and none of them were ladies. Scarlett O'Hara wasn't a lady either-exactly-but she'd been raised as one and for the most part presented a ladylike face to the world. Rhett was forced to live with that constraint and to take pleasure in circumventing what little convention the two of them were following in this most inappropriate wooing.

Rhett had been applying his lips to usually covered flesh with very good effect on this particular night. Scarlett's heart was beating quite hard under his hands, and her breath kept coming in breathy little gasps. The seduction might accomplish what appealing to her intelligence did not. "Oh, Rhett..." The sound of his name in that tone of voice encouraged him on. Did he dare undo another button?

"Muvver?"

As though cold water had been doused on them, Both Scarlett and Rhett stood up straight and stared at each other.

"Muvver!"

"Coming, Wade darling," she said. She went through the open door and up the stairs to where her son was on the landing. Picking him up, she brought him down the stairs and sat on the top porch step with him in her arms.

"Wade scawed, Muvver!"

"Did you have a bad dream?" She felt his forehead. He was a little warm, but he usually was when he was asleep. The little head nodded. There was nothing to do but hold the child and try to soothe him.

 _Hush, little Baby, don't say a word,_  
 _Mama's gonna buy you a Mockingbird._

Rhett's arm came around them both, and his voice joined hers on the next verse.

 _And if that mockingbird don't sing,_  
 _Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring..._

They sang all the way to the sweetest baby in town and Wade drowsed a bit, but still wasn't quite asleep. Rhett recalled a tune, sung by a grandmother he barely remembered. First he hummed, and then he sang.

 _Blow the wind, blow;_  
 _Swift and low;_  
 _Blow the wind o'er the ocean..._

Scarlett had inadvertently hit the nail on the head, Rhett realized. The passel of brats was the most important thing to consider. If he made Scarlett his mistress, it would hurt Wade, and more than hurting Wade it would hurt the children he and Scarlett would have. Suddenly he saw them, sweet little folks with dark hair and green eyes. He wanted the world for them. Looking at Scarlett, he wondered what that world would be.

Wade finally went limp, asleep at last. Scarlett stood with him in her arms, wobbled, and caught herself.

"Do you want me to help you with him?"

She shook her head. "No, I've done this before. I can handle it. Melanie would be scandalized if you went up stairs."

"All right, then," he said. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Good night, my very dear Mrs. Hamilton."

"Good night, Captain Butler."

* * *

Several nights later, Rhett was thinking, even as he appreciated the shape of Scarlett under her worn calico dress. He would have to live in this house, sleep with Scarlett in her husband's bed. At least Sarah Jane Hamilton was gone, and by the time she came back, other arrangements could be made. Could he convince Scarlett to come to his hotel for a few hours? He thought maybe he could. It would be better to do it sooner rather than later.

"Do you have a prettier dress?" he whispered into her ear.

"I still have the one made up of that green silk," she whispered. She was finding it hard to breathe. Rhett had been kissing her dizzy, and the new way he was touching her made her feel like drunkenness must feel.

"Can you put it on? There's a place I'd like to take you."

"Right now?"

"This very minute."

She looked up into his eyes and there was enough moonlight for her to see that he was serious. She realized that whatever was going to happen would happen now, tonight, and she nodded. She no longer cared. The confines of respectability vanished when compared to what it meant to be in Rhett's arms. His words had promised her that she would like it. His arms promised her passion. His kisses promised her bliss. She'd already had a taste of all those things when he held her so close and kissed her. She shouldn't trust him, but she did.

He walked her to the Catholic church near the center of town. She turned and looked at him. "Rhett?"

"The passel of brats will need a name," he said lightly, "and should the need arise, my family might take you in, but only if I properly marry you."

"But _this_ church? You don't even believe in God."

"If we have to do this, and it appears we must, I want it to be fully binding in every way possible, Scarlett. I've spoken with the priest. He's waiting for us."

"Is this how you're going to propose marriage to me?"

His teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "I'm avoiding all the problems you mentioned before. You can't set me down and I can't get the upper hand. I have everything ready, Scarlett. Will you become my wife tonight?"

Scarlett was married for the second time in a dress her groom had long-ago provided, with less fanfare than she dreamed possible, but with a look in Rhett's eyes that made all other considerations unimportant. He, meanwhile, looked into her eyes and felt lost. She had such trust in her face. He had no idea how he would fulfill that trust, but he would do everything in his power. The priest said the final blessing over them, and then they were sent on their way.

Rhett brought her to his hotel, up to his suite. "Welcome to my humble abode, my dear Mrs.-" The strangest look came over his face and a lump came up his throat that he couldn't quite swallow down- "My _very_ dear Mrs. _Butler_."

He lifted her in his arms and walked all the way through the small sitting room into the bedroom, where he set her on the bed before sitting on it himself. "I know we don't have very long, but I thought we might have a little time just to ourselves."

Scarlett lost her voice and thought oddly of the moment right before she told Ashley she loved him all those months ago at Twelve Oaks. She didn't love Rhett, she couldn't, but she wanted this, to be alone with him. She swallowed hard and said, "I'm sure you know best."

He saw again the trust in her face and smiled. Then he stood long enough to remove his jacket and boots. Scarlett removed her hat and set it on the bedside table with her reticule. She didn't have time to consider what came next, because he was there, and his lips were on hers.

Everything she'd learned since they'd started meeting without other people around suddenly became the only lessons she'd ever had that were worth knowing. His mouth slanted over hers, threatening to remove all sanity, but she knew that she wanted to feel his hair between her fingers, so she ran her hands up the sleeves of his shirt to his neck. For some reason, this made him groan, so she ran her hands down again, taking the time to feel the play of muscles under broadcloth.

She realized his hands were behind her back and a cooling sensation alerted her to the fact that he'd completely unbuttoned her from neck to waist and was working the ties of her corset. She knew a moment of uncertainty. The kiss broke. "You know how to do that a little too well."

His eyes were drowsy, as though he were drunk. "It's never been like this, Scarlett, and now there won't be anyone else."

Her hands were now resting on his shoulders, and she timidly slid them down over his chest, aware that he was holding his breath. When she reached his buttons, she asked, "Is this-may I?" Fair is fair, she thought.

He let his breath out with a chuckle and said. "Of course." He tucked his chin down to watch her progress intently.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked a bit tartly. There were only three buttons, and now her hands were under the vest at his shoulders, sliding them over his arms.

He closed his eyes and let the feel of her hands wash over him. "Oh, yes... Scarlett, you're redefining my love life."

He stood her up then, to help her out of her dress and set it aside. Having unfastened the laces of her corset, he now set about unhooking it and peeling it back, kissing her through her exposed chemise every inch of the way. He was brought up short when he realized that Scarlett had removed his collar and was blindly following the line of buttons down his shirt. She had reached his waistband, which left her very pink and confused and himself quite aroused.

Setting aside the corset, he smiled and kissed her face exuberantly. "I knew you'd be good at this." Her face went red, and he went on. "I knew that we would be good together, Scarlett, and you were right, it's better that we're married."

"I never-"

"I know, but it was something in you that held out for this, just as there's something in you that responds to this." He kissed her again, and she clung to him.

He went around the room and blew out all the candles but one. Scarlett looked at it and then him.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to see your face while I make love to you." He turned from her as he finished undressing, allowing her to slip between the sheets.

His voice was as alluring as his kisses were. He was suddenly on the bed with her, kissing her again, her lips, her face, and down her neck. Her chemise became a memory, floating off somewhere, and then his lips were on her breasts. "So pretty," he whispered. "So sweet."

Scarlett didn't know what was happening to her. Her hips started thrusting without her realizing it, jerky eager movements that she didn't understand.

"Easy love," he mumbled as he suckled and kissed and nipped. His hands slid down to her thighs, soothing them and exciting them at the same time.

Scarlett's hands fluttered around his head and over his shoulders. "I want-" She didn't have a name for it. "I want."

"I know, my dear, I know," he answered. He was trying to absorb it all at once. She was finally his and he was at a feast with no idea which course to sample first. At the same time he needed to be gentle. Her previous experience, if he understood what she told him, had been painful and uninspiring. He needed to be patient, not to rush it. He kept tasting her, loving the feel of her within his arms.

"Rhett, please, I need..." He looked into her face and saw what he'd only vaguely known he was looking for. In the depths of her passion, the only thing she was aware of, was able to see or think of, was him. He realized that in his own passion he had already worked his body between her legs, he was so lost in the same passion as Scarlet that he was already moving into position. He slid his hands along her legs, moving them gently so that he wouldn't hurt her.

She wanted him to do this. She'd never wanted anything else in her entire life but his body, like this. She was sure of it, and she trusted him. He leaned down to kiss her as he slid into place. He stopped and looked into her eyes with concern. She looked up into his with wonder. This wasn't painful or distasteful. It was completion. "Oh, yes..."

He tried to go slowly, to keep caressing her so that she would continue to want this. He held her hips and moved gently. "Yes," she whispered again.

She didn't know what she was feeling, just that even as his fingertips caused tremors that went all through her, just as his thrusting within her caused her to feel things deep within herself she didn't know were there, she was somehow feeling something beyond her body, beyond anything, and then the feeling was unbearably intense. "Rhett!" She squeezed her legs around his hips as another wave of it came upon her. "Rhett!" she said more quietly even as she felt him move faster and harder. _"Oh, Rhett..._ " she breathed out as the sweetest wave yet came to her.

Rhett held her hips still as he shuddered into her, one last full thrust that emptied him but left him exhilarated. It had never been like this. He gathered her up underneath him protectively and possessively. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her whole face in delight. He leaned up on his elbows and knees and smiled down at his bride.

"Did I, was that all right?" she asked.

"Did you enjoy it?"

She blushed. "I-oh, _yes_."

"Then it was perfection, my love."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

When Scarlett came out of the hospital the next afternoon, Rhett was standing at the bottom of the steps, leaning against a streetlight. He removed his hat as soon as he saw her and bowed. She felt so many things: self-conscious, and glad, and that strange feeling deep inside her he had called passion. She smiled without thinking about it and walked over to him.

"My very dear Mrs. Butler," he murmured, "you are positively radiant."

Now Scarlett consciously simpered, flashing her eyes in a way she knew was charming. "Captain Butler, you do run on."

He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there. "I've missed you."

Maybe it was his mustache or maybe just his voice, but a thrilling current traveled from his lips through her fingers and all the way up her arm. "I missed you too," she said.

"Was there any trouble last night?" He had brought her back to the Hamilton house about four hours after they'd left.

"No, I was able to slip in and get to bed without anyone the wiser."

"Did you tell Mrs. Wilkes, yet?"

"No, I didn't get a chance. I had to be at the hospital before she was up for the day."

He nodded. "Are you going to tell her soon?"

"Of course," she answered. "I'm not sure I want to tell any of those other old cats, though."

He tilted his head and looked at her intently. "We can't spend our whole nights together until we do."

Scarlett wasn't sure she was ready for an announcement like that. "But it's so special and ours," she said. "They'll just start tearing at us."

He grinned in that almost nasty way he had. He knew that even now she had her reservations about their marriage. "I'm sure there would be compensations, speaking of which," he tilted his head closer, "do you have a few hours, now?"

Scarlett looked caught out. She lowered her chin and bit her lip. "I'm not sure it's the best _time_ , Rhett.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't try to get out of this, Scarlett."

Her eyes went wide. "Oh, no! It's just that," he could see she was trying to think of something to say. "It's a really bad time for me," is all she ended up with. She folded her arms around her middle.

He realized what she meant and smiled. "Ah. Since you'll be indisposed for a couple of days, why don't we do something else I'd like to do while we can."

She nodded her assent, and he offered her his elbow. Scarlett slipped her hand up into it, and he captured it with his other hand, feeling for her wedding ring. She was his, and anyone who looked would know it.

He took her to an artist's studio. "I want us to have miniatures of each other, just in case we're parted, my sweet."

The artist had a female assistant who dressed Scarlett's hair. Scarlett was shocked when it was explained that her shoulders were to be exposed for the portrait. The waist of her dress was unfastened and pushed out of the way, and then the top of her shimmy. The assistant draped Scarlett with a soft fabric, just below her shoulders to preserve her modesty, and then the artist and Rhett returned to the room.

"You are most lovely, my pet," said Rhett. She could see in his eyes that he really thought so.

He sat facing her as the artist approached his easel. "Where would you like to honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon?" she asked.

"We won't be able to go for some time, perhaps until the war ends, but I'd like to go someplace, just the two of us."

"You've been more places than I have. Where would you recommend?"

He spent the next hour describing several places to her, from New Orleans to Havana to Buenos Aires, as well as Paris, Rome and London. "You'd be beautiful in all of them," he said.

She blushed and looked down. "Rhett."

"I think we're about done, Captain Butler," said the artist after a couple of hours. "I can finish it later for you to pick up in a few days. The other one you requested is almost done."

"Thank you Mr. Marcel," said Rhett. "We will come back for both together later this week."

The artist and his assistant withdrew, and Rhett helped Scarlett with her clothing. "Do you really think we'll be separated?" she asked.

"I fear it's all but inevitable," he answered. He kissed her shoulder before it was covered. "I'll see you safely out of Atlanta, but beyond that I'm not sure what we'll be doing."

She lifted frightened eyes to him. "I appreciate that, but Rhett-" she bit her lip.

"Yes, Scarlett?" He was looking at her as if what she was about to say was the most important thing in the world.

"I don't want to be away from you. I think I'll miss you."

Something flashed across his face, disappointment? It was gone before she was sure she saw it. He looked down to fasten the buttons of her dress. "I'll miss you, too, Scarlett. We haven't had near as much time together as I hoped for." Pulling her close, he kissed her and then deepened the kiss.

* * *

Scarlett was back home in time for supper with Melanie. "Scarlett, wherever did you get that ring?"

At least it would be easy to bring up the subject. Scarlett blushed. "Rhett-Captain Butler-and I were married last night."

Melly's face looked like sunrise, "Oh, Scarlett! What wonderful news!"

Scarlett was surprised. Melly seemed happier than she was. "Do you really think so?"

"I do, he loves you so much, and of course I've seen how you care for him."

"But I never-" Scarlett swallowed the rest. She could never tell Melanie what she really felt.

Melanie blushed and looked at her plate. She murmured, "Have you had a chance to-be together?"

It was Scarlett's turn to blush. "I went to his hotel for a few hours last night, after we left the church."

"You should be with him as much as you can before we leave Atlanta. What if you're separated?"

"He said something like that today. I don't want to think of it."

Melanie took Scarlett's hands in her own. "This is such good news, Scarlett! We should have a celebration!"

"Oh, Melly, you know we can't do that, at least not now. You know how everyone feels about Rhett, and you're-well..."

Melanie put her hands on her stomach and blushed. "Oh, of course."

"It would probably be the best thing to not mention it unless we're asked about it," continued Scarlett. "I don't want anyone to upset you."

"You're so clever!" said Melanie. "Of course we can wait."

* * *

Rhett came to visit while Mrs. Meade was there that night. He made a great show of kissing the hand of both Mrs. Meade and Scarlett and chatted with them about the difficulties caused by the siege. They made a certain amount of small talk until Mrs. Meade started making pointed comments about obligations to the Confederacy.

"I'm just grateful that I had two fine boys to give to the cause," she said with an audible lump in her throat. "No one can say I haven't done my duty."

Scarlett looked in worry between her and Rhett. He usually made a nasty remark right about this time, but it would be simply cruel, with Darcy dead and Phil just having gone back from his leave.

Rhett surprised her. "I know that many are grateful for your sacrifices, Mrs. Meade."

"I know some people choose not to fight," she answered pointedly.

Rhett, who was leaning against the rail as he often did, to shake the ashes from his cigar into one of Aunt Pitty's azaleas, shifted his feet. "I'll be honest with you, Mrs. Meade. The only reason I'm still in town is to keep an eye on Mrs..." he looked at Scarlett, "Hamilton and Mrs. Wilkes. I intend to make sure they get out of town safely and then I'll do my duty, you may be sure."

"Why would you join at this late date?" Mrs. Meade asked with narrowed eyes.

"I'd know that the people who'd been so kind to me when I was blockade running were taken care of, and I could continue the service to my people that I started before anyone fired on Fort Sumpter. I'm sure I can still be helpful."

Scarlett realized what he meant and felt herself go completely cold. This was why he wanted her picture. Rhett watched her go white as she stood up. "But R-Captain Butler! You could be injured, or worse!"

Rhett's smile was hidden by his cigar. He waited a moment before taking it out of his mouth. "Would you mind that, Mrs. Hamilton?"

Very aware of Mrs. Meade's watchful gaze she lamely said, "It's not for me to say, of course, but I'd be quite sad if anything happened to you."

Since she was standing, she decided to say goodnight, somewhat miserably, and Rhett made a show of escorting Mrs. Meade down the stairs and through the gate as Scarlett got the door closed. She couldn't figure out how she felt. Rhett intended to abandon her after all. Why did she ever marry him? Reason pointed out that he clearly said he meant to see her safely home first.

She got up the stairs to check on Wade, who was sleeping soundly, and Melanie, who was awake. "You should go with him, dear," she said.

"He's already left," answered Scarlett.

"He'll be down there at least another hour yet. I haven't been sleeping well; I've seen him out there most nights."

"You'll be all alone."

"If we need you, I'll send Prissy."

"He said he'll leave us and join the army after we leave Atlanta."

"That's his duty. He's only been staying here because of you."

Scarlett looked up, confusion in her eyes. "How can you _know_ that?"

"It's in how he looks at you dear. It's the same way Ashley looks at me."

Suddenly Scarlett didn't want to talk to Melanie anymore. "Are you sure it's all right?"

"Wade and I will be fine," she answered.

* * *

True to Melanie's word, Rhett was standing in the shadow of some trees when she came down. "Have you been doing that every night?"

"Quite a few nights, my pet."

"Do I mean so much to you?"

"I paid a hundred and fifty dollars for you just for the first dance, Scarlett. Do you know how much I've spent since then?" he said it with a teasing voice even as he took her hand and pulled it securely within his elbow.

"I'm just an investment, then, as you said before. You'll see me safe at Tara and then off to your next adventure."

He chuckled. "On the contrary, my pet. _You_ are my next great adventure."

"Then why do you plan to leave me?"

He sighed. "I can't possibly explain it. Are you joining me this evening?"

"Melly said I should come. I can't do, well, _that_ tonight, but Melly said I should be with you as much as possible."

"Bless Melanie Wilkes," he whispered. He stopped and pulled Scarlett into his arms to kiss her, which he did for a long moment. Then they continued on their way again.

"Is that why you wanted the picture?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like some of your hair, too."

"You're very sentimental."

"I am at that, Scarlett. Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Melanie said she'd send Prissy if there's a problem."

"I've never held a woman in my arms all night."

Scarlett thought of her first wedding night, which Charlie spent in the chair, and the nights that followed, during which Charlie hugged one edge of her bed while Scarlett hugged the other. "I'm not sure it will be very good," she said.

"Are you comparing me to Charles Hamilton, again?"

Scarlett blushed. She should stop doing that. He always caught her out.

* * *

Rhett woke Scarlett before dawn, his mustache brushing over her face as he kissed her awake. "Good morning, my sweet," he said.

Scarlett realized that her head was on his shoulder and that she was holding his torso while her legs were intertwined with his. She had slept soundly. "I'm sorry, Captain Butler, I don't know what possessed me," she said as she pulled away toward some form of modesty.

He chuckled. "The same thing possessed us both."

She sat up and reached for her dress. He sat next to her and leaned over to tip her head to face him. "It's an odd thing to say during a siege, but I think that might be the best night's sleep I ever had."

She blushed. "I slept well, too.

 _A/N: This chapter contains some things that were headcanon for me, and I felt like it would be better if it was revealed in Grace & Charm first. It probably doesn't matter, just a weird artistic affectation, but "the heart has reasons that reason knows not" and all. Anyhow, here we are. Thanks so much you readers and reviewers, including **rhett's love, Truckee Gal, gumper, Romabeachgirl1981, gabyhyatt, Snowandbows, Guest,** **gingerized5** , and **abbygale94.**_


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns.

Rhett took Scarlett to the artist's studio several days later. The artist put a locket on a chain and a pocket watch on a piece of velvet for them to examine. Rhett picked up the pocket watch and opened the front. He smiled at what he saw and showed the portrait inside to his wife.

Scarlett was amazed at how pretty the woman in the watch looked, with magnolia-white skin, soft pink tones in her cheeks, and a light of animation in her green eyes. "Do I really look like that?"

"You look like that when we speak sometimes," he answered. "It's the reason men fall dead in love at your feet. I'll be the envy of anyone who sees this." The back of the watch had a small compartment in it. The artist's assistant handed Rhett some small scissors. "Do you mind?" he asked with a grin.

Scarlett let down some of her hair and he came close to her, holding the scissors. "'This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to fame,'" he murmured. _But it's Scarlett's name that would be inscribed in the stars,_ he thought. "It's perfect," he told the artist as he closed Scarlett's hair into the compartment.

They changed their attention to the locket next. In the first compartment contained a miniature of him. "Oh, Rhett! It's so like you!" she looked up at him delight on her face. Is there a way for me to have some of your hair, too?"

Rhett showed her that there was a compartment in the back of the locket and handed her the scissors. Scarlett looked all over his head, trying to find the perfect curl and found what she wanted near the nape of his neck. It was long enough and curled enough to go around her finger. Soon it was snapped into the locket. Rhett fastened the chain around her neck and kissed her forehead and then fastened the pocket watch to his fob. He paid the artist in gold and they were soon back out on the street.

"Do we have time to go to the hotel now, or shall I await better things later?" he asked with a smile.

"I don't suppose we could have both?" she asked.

Rhett's smile intensified. "I told you that we matched each other," he said. "I'm yours to command, Mrs. Butler."

"You like to call me that," she observed.

"It means you're mine," he said.

* * *

Rhett lived for the afternoons and nights when Scarlett could be with him in his rooms. She was exhausted from the work at the hospital and then the work at Pittypat's house to care for Melanie and make sure there was enough food for everyone to eat. Rhett made sure she got baths, and a little more to eat as well as sleep. He would watch her sleep, jealous of her time but unwilling to keep her awake when she was so tired and worried about everything.

One afternoon he did wake her, so she could eat a quick tea before he took her back to the Hamilton house. "I don't know why you bother with the hospital," he observed. "You hate to deal with the filth and sickness as much as I do."

"I do it because it makes Melly happy," she said listlessly.

"Does it make you happy?"

"Not particularly. It makes Mother happy to know I'm doing my part, too."

"Why does Melly want you to do it?"

"She wishes she could do it. She always hopes there's someone doing the same for Ashley."

"Aha... so since Melanie Wilkes can't tend her own husband who's probably dead, you have to work in the hospital."

"Don't say Ashley's probably dead!"

"Would it matter if he was? Would it make a difference between you and I?"

Scarlett didn't know how to answer. "I don't know."

"Guess, just for the sake of guessing. If he walked into this room, what difference would it make to you and me?" Rhett felt the need to push this point. Was there any hope that he could become, not what Ashley was to her, but rather the man she loved in all the ways she was capable of loving a man?

Scarlett looked from the rumpled bed to Rhett and then to the table between them. She pictured Ashley looking disappointed in her, and she remembered the way Rhett's breath sounded in her ear just as he tumbled her into that wild feeling. The thought of Rhett's hands stroking her body, teaching her things she didn't even know about herself, and the way he held her so gently after it was all done. How could she compare it to the weak passion Ashley showed, only after she kissed him first? When Rhett kissed her, she didn't know Ashley existed.

"Well..." she said, looking into Rhett's face as honestly as she knew how, "I'd rather he not come in until I get a chance to put on more than my shimmy, and I think we might want him to leave before we do more of..." she glanced at the bed... "that."

Rhett roared with laughter. "So practical, again!" He stood and picked her up off her chair, taking her back to the bedroom.

"Why did you want my shoulders in the miniature?" she asked.

"Because they're perfect," he said, "and kissable." He leaned over and did just that. "And your collar bones are exquisite." He pushed her shimmy out of the way and traced them with his lips.

For just a moment, she wondered how many shoulders he'd kissed, and how young and foolish she must seem to him. "Have you kissed so many shoulders? Am I so very young?"

"I don't mind your inexperience, Scarlett, and I love your honesty, when you don't try to hide what you're really thinking." He stepped close to her and reached under the hem of her chemise. He found the buttons of her pantalets and they were soon on the floor. "We'll learn how to please each other for many years to come, I hope." His hands kept moving up even as his mouth came down to capture hers.

Scarlett was thinking of those years as the madness started to come upon her. He was backing up, drawing her along with him. Then he was sitting on the bed. The kiss broke and he was looking at her with a challenge in his eyes.

"What?"

"Sit on my lap, my love."

"What?"

He pulled her up to the bed and then tugged on first one knee and then the other until she realized where she was sitting. "Rhett?"

He guided her hips up and then back down, glorying in the look that came to her eyes at the difference between what they'd done before and were doing now.

"It's the same, but not the same," she said.

"Is it painful or uncomfortable?"

She shook her head. "Not in the least."

Scarlett gasped as her chemise was suddenly pushed up over her head and cast aside to float...somewhere. "Scarlett," Rhett groaned. She felt herself doing... something... as his hands and lips worked their endless magic on her. "Oh, yes, love," he hissed. He put his hands along her waist and guided her hips up... and then back down. Her breasts were close to his mouth, and he nipped and kissed as they moved together. He fell backwards and pulled her with him, never stopping the rhythm. Then she was whimpering as she felt that delicious something give way while he was encouraging her and groaning out his own pleasure.

She wasn't sure how much later it was when they were lying quietly together. Scarlett had slid to Rhett's side. Her head was on his shoulder and she was tracing circles in his chest hair. His fingers were running along her scalp, pulling strands of her hair across his neck.

"Do we really need to tell them?" she asked.

"I think we should soon," he answered.

"It's just so nice this way, and they'll just ruin it."

He leaned his head up. "They can't ruin this."

Half an hour later, they were getting dressed and finishing the small meal they'd interrupted, and they still discussed whether to tell anyone they were married.

"I hate having to call you 'Mrs. Hamilton.'"

"They won't let it alone if they find out."

"They're going to find out eventually."

"Of course, but Melly agrees it's better if we wait a little. Mrs. Meade will be so angry with us, and if anything happens to Melly or the baby after I've spent all of this time here, I will be furious."

 _The baby._

He looked at her and thought about the possibility. One of the reasons he'd married her was the potential for children. It was possible, now. If they parted now, he might leave her in the midst of a war with child.

She saw his face. "What is it?"

He smiled. "I need to get all of my paperwork in order." He'd have to re-write his will. There must be at least one lawyer still in town. And, despite what Scarlett wanted, if there was a baby, the sooner the old guard knew about the marriage, the better.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't need to say anything. A few days later, Mrs. Meade sussed something out and was waiting for them on the porch when they got to the house.

"Where have you been?"

Scarlett shrank into Rhett's side. "We've... we've..."

Rhett realized she would never manage to say what needed to be said, and it was clearly out now. "Mrs. Butler and I have been spending some time together in anticipation of our imminent parting.

"Mrs. Hamilton, you mean?"

"No, I refer to Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Meade." He pulled one of the several copies he'd had made of their marriage certificate and handed it to the woman. "Scarlett and I have been married since early in the month."

Mrs. Meade looked over the paper and handed it back. She looked at Scarlett and said, "You stupid, foolish girl! Why would you do such a thing!"

"I-" Now was the time to say that she loved him, if only to shut the woman up. She looked at Rhett, who was looking at her with something in his eyes. Why couldn't she say it?"

"Mrs. Meade, please! Can't you see they love each other madly?"

Melly was half way down the stairs, and she was told not to come down for any reason! Scarlett was suddenly mobilized. "Melly, you mustn't!"

"I'm sorry, Scarlett, but you can't let her scold you like that. Anyone with eyes can see that he adores you and that you love him body and soul. Go on, tell her."

Scarlett closed her eyes and thought of what Rhett had been doing to her body less than an hour before. "I do love him. Body and..." She nodded. She felt a little disloyal to Ashley, but he didn't want her body and Rhett did. Oh, how Rhett did!

Rhett chuckled to himself. He could guess what the sudden flush from Scarlett's hairline to neckline meant.

Mrs. Meade puffed up like a bullfrog. She could guess, too. "I don't know how you allow such goings on, Melanie Hamilton."

"Wilkes," said Scarlett timidly. She had her arm around Melanie and was trying to guide help her turn around to go back upstairs.

Mrs. Meade turned in their direction with narrowed eyes. "Melanie Wilkes. To allow Ellen Robillard's daughter to marry a man who's not-"

"Mrs. Meade?" broke in Scarlett anxiously.

"Don't interrupt me. To allow Ellen-"

"Mrs. Meade, look at Melly. Is it her time?"

Everyone looked at Melanie, half way up the stairs, clutching the rail with one hand and her belly with the other.

Mrs. Meade was intent upon properly dealing with this Butler marriage, but babies had greater priority. "Good Lord. Ease her to a sitting position, Scarlett. Mr. Butler, if you would go to the hospital and find out if Doctor Meade can spare the time for us, I would appreciate it. Prissy, you go over and get Betsy. Tell her to bring the baby bag. Her pain seems to be easing. Scarlett, help me get her upstairs."

Several hours later, Scarlett returned to the porch to find Rhett sitting on a rocker. He pulled her onto his lap and slid his hand around her middle.

"Rhett!"

"Hush, no one will comment now. Except for the Meades, the houses here are empty for a quarter mile in every direction. Did I hear correctly that it's a boy?"

"Beau," she answered. "She's so happy, and Doctor Meade says Mrs. Meade can take her to Macon where all their cousins live, now."

"You're determined to go to Tara?

"I need my mother... and it sounds like they could use my help."

"You realize you'll have to get through Sherman's army."

The look on her face told him everything. He pulled her head under his chin. "All right, my darling. Somehow we'll get you there. Sherman is no match for you."

* * *

 _A/N: For the record, this story was never intended to be more than a one-shot, and the chapters come to me catch as catch can. It will probably never really be complete, but it will be slow going. The Exes story has been pretty dark to write the last couple of days, and this story cheers me up, so here I am._

 _I'm changing Beau's birthday from the first of September to the third week of August for several reasons, primarily that everyone now has time to think about what they're doing. As an odd thought: The only birthdays MM gives us definitively are Ashley's birthday and Beau's. Go figure._

 _Thanks to readers and reviewers, including **gabyhyatt, gumper, Truckee Gal, abbygale94, kanga85,** **abbygale94** , and **Chippy70.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

Rhett pondered the contents of his hotel room. Odds were high that nothing of this room would be left the next time he arrived in Atlanta. What was invaluable and what would be necessary for the weeks or months-or, God forbid, years-ahead?

He had far more Union bills than anyone this far south should. He'd been bringing it in, little by little, every time he made a run and now there was quite a bit. Given the way things were going, it would be extremely useful before terribly long. He put it all in two money belts he had and for now put them around his own middle. He packed up the few mementos he had from his family and from Scarlett and set that bag aside. It was small enough. Finally, he considered what he might want for the time ahead.

He left behind the elegant suits he'd worn around town, the daytime wear for prowling the fashionable parts of town in the hopes of finding a certain young widow as well as the evening suits he'd worn as he waltzed her around more ballrooms than a widow should dance in. Somewhere in a bag or drawer there were clothes he'd worn while mining for gold. It could get hot in California, hotter than it was in Atlanta today, but then the sun would go down and a wind would blow that got damn cold. He had no idea why he kept them all of these years when another style of clothing was better suited to working on his ships, but the clothing from California was perhaps the best he had for the coming months, when he would be on different mountainsides and hillsides, but nevertheless ones that could be both hot and cold.

Rhett's buggy hadn't yet been commandeered by the army, but he pulled it around the back of the Hamilton house to reduce the chances that someone would take it. Scarlett met him in the kitchen. "Is Miss Melanie still here?" he asked.

"The Meades took her as soon as Doctor Meade said she could travel safely."

"Are you still determined to get home to your parents?"

"Where else could I go?" There was a sound of distant bombing.

"Macon is much safer than Jonesboro."

"I have to get to Jonesboro, Rhett. I need my mother!"

She was still a child in many ways, after all. He pulled her close. "All right, my darling. We'll see if we can get you there. Have you packed?"

She brought him to the parlor and showed him several trunks filled with things like dishes and candlesticks. "This won't do; we've only got the buggy and that will be hard enough to get through. I need to you bring whatever clothes you can wear every day and anything you cannot live without. It has to fit in a single valise or bag."

He watched her dither for just a moment, and there was more bombing, perhaps closer this time. Prissy shrieked in another part of the house. Scarlett straightened her shoulders and started looking through one of the trunks. She found some picture frames and an old sword.

"This is all we need from here," she said. "I need to get my clothes upstairs."

He followed her up. When they arrived in her bedroom, he looked around, to compare it to his imagination. Then he started unbuttoning her back.

She whirled around. "We don't have time for that, do we?"

"That's not what I was doing. This is just for a second," he replied. He took off his jacket and unfastened his shirt enough to remove one of the money belts. "It's all Union greenbacks in fives and tens, but maybe there will be a use for them someday." He fastened it just below her corset and buttoned her dress back up.

"Aren't the Yankees looting? If I'm caught with this sort of money..."

He handed her one of his dueling pistols. "If any man tries to lay a hand on you, point this at his chest and pull the trigger."

"But Rhett..."

"When you get home, maybe there's some place you can bury it."

"Don't you mean when 'we' get home?"

"Yes," he said tersely, although he wasn't sure how long he would linger at Tara, if they even made it that far together.

The bombing continued as Scarlett took several dresses off hangers and put them in a valise along with several outfits for Wade and underclothes for both from a bureau. There was also another pistol. "I don't know if there's anything else to take, she said."

"Muvver!" Wade came down the hall. "Wade is scawed!"

"It's ok, baby, we're getting out of here."

Somehow Rhett got all the bags into the buggy as well as Prissy, Scarlett, Wade, and himself. The horse wasn't terribly pleased by the weight, but he moved well enough. As they passed the depot and rolled to the southern part of town, Scarlett asked, 'Why is the shelling getting louder?"

Rhett looked at her in amazement. "We're headed toward the battle, my dear. Do you still want to do this?"

With eyes as big as silver dollars, she suddenly realized exactly what he'd been saying for days. She nodded, and they made their way toward Rough and Ready. They got to a bit of a hill top and Scarlett could see plumes of smoke that seemed to accompany the sounds they were hearing. If they kept to the road they were on, they'd be right in the middle of it.

"We can't take the main road."

"I can see that."

"Do you know of any other small trails or lanes?"

She pointed. "If we can get down just another mile or so, there's a lane that winds around miles out of the way, but it comes out near the McIntosh place, which is just a mile away from Tara."

"Do you still want to risk it?"

"Is there any place else we can go?"

He looked at her and dreamed of going east, to the coast. Surely there was a boat somewhere that he could use to get away from the war, to keep her safe. Unfortunately for him, she was worried about her family with illness at Tara. If she was so focused on helping Ashley Wilkes' wife, whom she could scarcely stand, what wouldn't she do for her own flesh and blood?

"You'll have to guide me, then."

* * *

It took them a day and a half to travel a distance usually traversed in a long afternoon. They went slowly, looking carefully down every cross-road and letting the horse rest whenever there was fresh water or grazing available. Several times they had to pull into the woods or an abandoned barn or shed while one army or another passed them by. They spent several hours in the night in such a shed.

Scarlett heard voices close by and woke up, about to scream, with her eyes wide. Rhett put his hand over her mouth but then removed it to cover her mouth with his lips. She gasped and let him kiss her more thoroughly. A moment later she settled down and he pulled away to whisper, "It's all right, my sweet." She quietly nodded and rested her head on his chest trustingly. She checked on Wade and Prissy, who were still sleeping quietly.

They foraged in abandoned orchards and vegetable gardens, finding just enough to eat. Scarlett looked around sadly, recognizing some of the properties. "They used to have such lovely garden parties here," she whispered at one half-burned house. At another one she observed, "Pa used to sit on that porch, sipping whiskey and talking about the price of cotton with Mr. Spence."

Eventually they found their way to the McIntosh farm but in the twilight they saw campfires in the distance along the lane to Tara. Rhett stopped the buggy and looked at Scarlett. "We can't go there."

"We're inches from my home!"

"There's an army camped in your parents' yard, Scarlett. I can't go there, and you can't take the buggy."

"What are we to do?" They looked around. There were lights visible through the McIntosh's windows.

"Where's the next place?"

"Twelve Oaks, around that other lane."

He sighed. Ashley Wilkes would have to be his absent host. Of course. "I'll have to leave you off, then, and continue there in the hopes of finding a place to hide until I can get to Tara myself."

"But Rhett, how am I supposed to-"

He put his arms around her. "Listen, my darling. I need to do this, and even though you're a terrible liar, I know you can do this. Your family was at Tara the last you knew, right?" She nodded. "All right. It won't seem so odd for you to show up to join your family at the family home with your son and one of your people. We just need to think for a minute or two about what you should say, right?" At Scarlett's second nod, he smiled. "I'd back you against any army, Yankee or Confederate." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

An hour later, a trio of weary travelers made their way up the lane between the cypress trees. Scarlett could see the front porch of her house when they were stopped. "Who are you and what business do you have here?" There were three soldiers standing sentry. Scarlett couldn't tell, but by the completeness of their uniforms she had to guess Yankee.

Scarlett nervously cleared her throat. _Remember, they're just men like any men_ , Rhett's voice echoed in her head. "Please," she said, without batting her eyelashes, but with a soft female voice full of distress, "my name is Scarlett O'Hara. This is my father's plantation, Gerald O'Hara? I'm here with my son and one of our dar-one of our people."

The harsh voice turned kind. "Stay right there, ma'am. We'll have to check with command."

One of the soldiers ran the rest of the way up the lane and up the steps of the front porch. Scarlett looked in agony. "My family has been sick... typhoid, I hear. I do wish I could help my mother nurse my sisters."

"It will just be a moment, ma'am.

Someone came running back, followed by someone of stature who walked more calmly toward them. When he reached Scarlett, this new authority demanded. "What was your name?"

"Scarlett O'Hara. Katie Scarlet O'Hara, that is."

"And where have you been?"

"Tending my sister-in-law in Atlanta. She's been-well-she had a baby this week and couldn't be moved until it was done. Everyone is leaving the city, now, and I've been so worried about my family."

"And how have you gotten here, with so many armies along the road between here and the city?" The voice started to sound incredulous.

Scarlett could feel herself puff up in anger. _Don't let them rile you up. Try to stay calm_ , Rhett's voice in her head reminded her. "I've grown up here, sir, and knew back roads. We passed a few people and got a ride for a few miles at a time along the way."

"And who do you have with you?"

"This is my son, Wade, and Prissy here also has family at Tara, or did when the last letters were sent to us last week."

The commander, whether captain or major was unimportant to Scarlett, took his hat off to run a hand through his hair. "Well, this is highly irregular, but I'll allow it. We're getting ready to move out in a day or two anyhow. I guess you can go on up. Your father is in the kitchen. If you go there, he'll tell you where to find your mother and sisters."

"Thank you sir," Scarlett remembered to keep her voice soft even as her hands clenched so hard that her nails drew blood. They were in.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for the long wait between chapters in this story and the long wait for anything from me at all. I've had a minor crisis in RL and a bit of writer's block on both stories I'm currently writing. This one happened to come faster, but the other shouldn't be more than another day or two. Thank you all for your patience, but please read and review some of the other work on the GWTW page. There are several stories I would love to see updated, and maybe some reviews might give other authors a little bit of a boost._

 _Thank you to my own readers and reviewers, whose kind love keeps me writing, including **jaz7, TheFauxGinge, Truckee Gal, Guest 1 & 2, Romabeachgirl1981, gabyhyatt, samandfreddie, ****lizzieemcullen,** and **Wiolka**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

Philippe sat on the edge of Ellen's bed. Every so often he would pat her hand encouragingly. "Soon, my love." When he did that, her head didn't ache, and that pain in her side went away.

He was pushed out of the way by Mammy, who set down a basin of water and threadbare towels. "Miss Ellen, you won't believe what Miss Scarlett has gone and done," she said. A cool cloth was laid on Ellen's head, and another was used to wipe down her aching arms.

Ellen recalled the child. Dark hair, green eyes, Gerald's jaw. Born not long after Ellen's sixteenth birthday, and so much trouble. Grown up herself, now, with the sweet little boy. Such luscious brown eyes. "What about Scarlett?"

"She done married that no-account Captain Butler," answered Mammy. "She got home from Atlanta in the middle of the night, with Prissy and Master Wade, and Prissy told us all about her getting married, and a big fight on Miss Pittypat's front porch, and Miss Melly's baby done come early, so Miss Scarlett came home."

"It will be good to have Scarlett home," said Ellen. She had begged Scarlett to come home, and only this inconvenient child was in the way.

"Yes, ma'am."

So much to think through. "Did Melanie come here?"

"No, Miss Ellen, Mrs. Doctor Meade took her to Macon to the Burrs."

So much the better. It was so hard to find food for all the mouths they had to feed as it was. "Did you say Captain Butler came with Scarlett?"

"She said he's around somewhere, but he's not planning to stay. Now that the army left, she's going to see if any of the neighbors' gardens have food we can have."

Captain Butler. Something stuck in Ellen's head about him. She almost found the strength to sit up. "Not that horrible man, surely!"

"I'm sorry Miss Ellen, but it's that same one that had Miss 'Lalie and Miss Pauline all tore up two years ago. She done gone and married him."

"When? Have they... is she with child?"

"Prissy says early August, so three weeks or more, anyway. Mrs. Doctor just found out the other night. I couldn't say about the other."

Was there any reason to believe such a man wouldn't take what would be considered his due? "She took with Wade so quickly... she's probably with child now." Mammy was wiping her legs down, now. Philippe had moved to sit near her shoulder and Ellen looked into his eyes. "At least he married her, I suppose."

"Yes, ma'am," said Mammy disapprovingly.

Clearly the world had been badly managed, according to Ellen's childhood nurse and lifelong companion. Ellen would have to straighten it out. "I'm sorry," she said to Philippe as he blew her a kiss and climbed out the window.

* * *

It was a different time of day when she woke again. She didn't really care except to notice that the light was completely different. Scarlett herself came up to feed some vegetable broth to those in the sick room, starting with her mother. "We found a few things in the McIntoshs' kitchen garden, Mother. They were gone so we took them. There were things at Twelve Oaks, too, but the house is gone." The girl's face was wet.

Ellen took a spoonful when it was held to her mouth but then grimaced and refused the next mouthful.

"Please, Mother," said Scarlett in a surprisingly soft tone of voice. Working at the hospital must have done her good.

"Married?" she asked.

"Yes, mother."

"That awful man."

"He's nice enough to me, and what was I to do? I might have shamed myself."

"Definitely married?" Scarlett slipped another spoonful of broth in.

"Yes mother, by the priest at that little church... near downtown?"

"Father O'Shea, then? I know him."

"Yes, Mother."

"How could you?" More broth kept being swallowed. It made her stomach feel almost content.

"Mother! I just... did you never feel as though you just _had_ to? He offered marriage, and I was afraid of what would become of me if I didn't accept."

Philippe was in the room again, and Ellen remembered what had become of her when well-meaning family interfered. "Where is he?"

"He's been hiding at Twelve Oaks. Some of the buildings didn't get burned down. When he's sure the Yankees are all gone, he says he'll come here and then go back to Atlanta to enlist."

Curious, that. If he was planning to join, why not before now? "Why wait?"

"He always said he had no intention of helping the Confederacy beyond blockade running and that was at an immense profit. I don't know why he would leave me with everything so horrible."

A lot of questions to ponder there. Why would a blockade runner spend so much time so far inland? Why would such a reprobate fight at the eleventh hour? Ellen remembered how much her head hurt as she tried to figure it out.

"Look at that, Mother," said Scarlett in a soothing bedside voice. "You've finished all the broth Dilcey gave me for you. She'll be delighted."

Ellen felt proud of herself, as she was meant to, and forgot to stay awake as Scarlett moved over to Suellen's bed.

* * *

A couple of days later, Ellen had an additional pillow under her head. She still ached everywhere, but her caretakers assessed that she had turned the corner. Her fever was not as bad as before, and she could say a few more words in a sentence.

"Mrs. O'Hara." Gerald's voice didn't boom as it usually did, this was closer to his lovemaking voice, when he was trying to soothe or please her. There had been moments in their over twenty-year marriage where the lilting Irish timbre of that voice had _done_ something to her. Odd to think of that now when she was so sick. Her mind must be looking for something to work on.

"Yes, Mister O'Hara."

"They tell me you're better."

"I believe so, yes, although better than what, I do not know." Her mind tossed around. Perhaps if she had some concern to mull over. "Where do things stand, Mister O'Hara?"

"Well, 'tis a shameful situation, to see it all go down after working a lifetime-"

"The house stands?"

"Aye, it does, but in sad condition after the Yankees used it for their quarters."

"The cotton?"

"Two years' worth in storage with this year's on the verge of blooming."

"Our darkies?"

"Just Pork and Dilcey and their new baby, with Prissy and Mammy."

"And the girls?"

"Doing better every day, according to Mammy."

"Thank God for that."

"You're right, Mrs. O'Hara. If you're feeling well enough, we could say family prayers up here tonight."

"Not quite ready, Mr. O'Hara. Have we enough to feed everyone?"

"That's the rub, Mrs. O'Hara. The Yankees have eaten all ours. Scarlett's been going around the neighborhood. She's found a couple of kitchen gardens belonging to our evacuated neighbors that have vegetables yet, and the kind folk of Mimosa and Fairhill have offered us some of their extra. They're so far off the road they haven't been troubled. If we're careful, we'll have plenty for quite some time."

That was good to know. "Scarlett is married?"

Gerald puffed up. "The laddybuck had the nerve to ride up here and tell me he'd taken our daughter, Mrs. O'Hara."

"Is it real?"

"He had several copies of their marriage lines written out. It's real enough."

"There's nothing to be done, then."

"He's leaving for Atlanta tomorrow."

"What day is it?"

"The third of September, as far as we can tell."

"And the war?"

"Keeps going, as far as we can tell."

* * *

Rhett waited in Scarlett's room until she was done caring for her mother and sisters. "Tell me I have you to myself for a few hours," he said, his lips already on her throat below her chin.

"Rhett! I'm not sure we should..." It was a little awkward with her family in the house. Sure, she'd spent a couple of nights with Charlie in the same bed, but with Rhett it would be...

"Scarlett, I'm a man going to war tomorrow, perhaps to my death. I'd like a beautiful memory of my beautiful wife."

"But, my family..."

" _Please_ , my dear."

There was something a little sad, even winsome in his voice. She couldn't have possibly described it, but something in her heart responded to it. Or maybe she responded to the feeling of his hand unbuttoning her basque. In any case, he soon had her undressed, and his hands were doing things to which she couldn't say no if she wanted to.

Afterwards, he dozed with his head resting on her breasts, and she lost her breath thinking of what he'd said. What if he did die? What if she never knew this again? A few minutes later his hand ran back down her hip and she realized that she would not tell him no until daylight.

* * *

The next morning saw Scarlett seeing her soldier off to war. She walked him up between the cypress trees of the drive to the main road, where once he saddled his horse and was on his way, she buried her knuckles in her mouth to keep from crying out. That afternoon saw her tending her mother and sisters, who were definitely feeling better but still weak as newborn kittens.

The next week saw Scarlett going out in the neighborhood, going further and further from Tara to find vegetables or fruit in byways or kitchen gardens of abandoned farms and plantations. She hid the money belt she got from Rhett, not even stopping to count it. There was also a wallet of money in various denominations. She and Pork would go into town with a few dollars to find what food was available there to extend their meager pantry.

The following month came, and Scarlett started to help picking cotton. Her sisters helped somewhat, as well as Pork, Dilcey, and Prissy. By the end of that month, it was all taking too much of a toll upon Scarlett, who worked between exhaustion, sickness, and hunger by turns during the day. Mammy and Ellen finally took her aside one afternoon and discussed her symptoms. Scarlett was pregnant.

Christmas eventually came, and with it Frank Kennedy and the commissary, looking for provisions. Tara was much changed since Frank had last come courting Suellen. The house was not in the condition it once was. Ellen and Gerald were much changed as well. Ellen's will was just as strong as ever. She could still calculate over the ledgers and make decisions for the farm, but she had no stamina any more. She could barely make it downstairs to spend a few hours per day in her study before going back up. Gerald contained as much bravado as he ever did, but his property was not what he had built it up to be, and something within him was broken as well.

Yet it was Christmas, and the family were recovering from the typhoid that had nearly taken their loved ones. The cotton was in, there was enough to eat although barely enough, and there was company to enjoy their holiday with. Then Suellen and Frank were engaged, and suddenly Ellen and Gerald O'Hara were just as they were in the old days, smiling and making plans for the future. If she closed her eyes, Scarlett could reclaim the feel of holidays before the war.

Scarlett even got a gift in the form of a letter from Rhett. He was in the artillery, under the command of a Henry Hull Carlton, due to his partial West Point education. The artillery! Surely that was safer than infantry! She tucked the letter in her basque and put her hand over her growing middle. She had hope of seeing him again.

 _A/N: Did you despair of ever seeing another chapter of this? I have to admit that I did. As you may recall, this story was supposed to be a one-shot, a two-shot at most. Then your requests and my mind kept thinking of new things. I've run hard against the war and the book and couldn't get into this chapter. The only thing I knew for sure was that Prissy, who knew all, would tell all. So I skipped over the first eight hours of it._

 _Thank you for the patience and prodding of the readers and reviewers, including **samandfreddie, kanga85, Truckee Gal, COCO B, Phantom710, gabyhyatt, Wiolka, Guest 1 & 2 & 3 & 4 & 5, romabeachgirl, MissTricey, Sushibear144, whoknows3, ****1life2ROCK** , and **I Dream of Spring.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns._

Scarlett hardly knew herself any more. She had gone to the barbecue at Twelve Oaks intent upon winning the love of her life and ended up married to a man who left a child with her but otherwise no mark whatsoever. After a year of having that child and mourning, she went to Atlanta intent upon having fun. She'd wanted to dance and flirt and see the love of her life. Nothing had happened the way she wanted. The love of her life was no fun at all when she saw him, and all of the fun she did have came through a no-good varmint.

Since the siege had started in Atlanta, she'd had to stop hiding from the horror of the hospitals. She'd had to be truly helpful. Then she'd gone back to the Hamilton House, where she'd had to sit with the wife of the love of her life and offer solace and comfort to the woman. Suddenly, when she'd least expected it, she discovered something within herself she hadn't known was there. The no-good varmint knew. He kissed her and touched her and made her feel so many things. Passion, he'd called it. Now he was gone, but that feeling was not. If, late in the evening she sat someplace quiet and let it wash over her, she could well remember the longing that she had for him, something that the love of her life never made her feel.

She'd come home to Tara, and there had been no end of work. Half the day was spent finding and preparing food while the other half was spent picking the cotton that might, if they were lucky, pay the taxes. The Confederate government always used to take cotton in lieu of money. One could only hope. All of the cotton that had been saved since the blockade got too tight was gone. One hundred and fifty _thousand_ dollars worth, burned to ashes as the Yankees left. "At least they left us the house," whispered Pa, but Scarlett wasn't sure he believed it. Pa hadn't been entirely himself since then. Scarlett got up in the mornings and worked as hard as she could, hoping against hope that if they could make Tara into Tara again, perhaps he would come to himself.

Mother was hardly any better, but her frailty was different. She hadn't wanted to recover from the typhoid. It was plain to Scarlett, especially when she saw the faces of Mammy and Dilcey, that Mother had given up. Yet she was interested in the family again, and that interest kept her going. Mammy said she took the turn when told of Scarlett's marriage to Rhett. Her eyes, which had been dull and glassy, suddenly took a new light in them. Yet, for the most part, Mother didn't seem to have an ounce of strength, and although Scarlett was sure restoring Tara would help Pa, she wasn't sure what would bring Mother back. She needed help just to get her dress on every morning, until the day of the Yankee deserter.

Scarlett was changing the bed linens when she heard him ride up to the front porch. Glancing out the window, she saw that he was a Union soldier, but he didn't seem to be with any others. She felt, rather than heard, the door open and close, and she was suddenly filled with rage that he would trespass. Didn't the armies take everything there was already? She crept down the stairs, stopping to grab Rhett's dueling pistol and got to the room he was standing in. He was rooting through Mother's box. Then he saw her.

"Well, aren't you pretty? Have you got something for me?" He pointed to her right arm. Her hand was hidden in her skirt.

"You leave that alone," she said. "It doesn't belong to you."

"It belongs to me if I say it does," he smiled, with a dirty, sleazy grin. "For that matter, I might say you belong to me, too. What do you think of that?"

The Yankee took a step toward her, and Scarlett stepped back. He took another step, reaching out his hand. Remembering Rhett's words to her about the money belt, Scarlett reached around with her right arm and pulled the trigger.

"Scarlett!" Mother was standing on the landing.

Scarlett looked down. There was a small fountain of red coming from the soldier's neck. "Your box, Mother... He was going through your box, and then he was reaching for me." She looked up helplessly. "Rhett told me..."

Mother came down the stairs with a stiff agility that belied the fact she'd barely been out of her bedroom in two full months. "Go get one of those dirty sheets from the hallway," she directed Scarlett, patting her on the back to set her on her way.

When Scarlett came back down, her mother was saying the Lord's Prayer.

"Is he-are you trying to save him?"

"No, dear." Mother's voice was full of assurance and command. "He's not going to recover from that wound."

"So I've done murder, now."

"I'm fairly certain he was going to hurt you, perhaps all of us, and you did the only thing you could. Still... he shouldn't leave this earth without a chance for redemption." Mother stood and swayed just a bit before Scarlett reached to steady her. They watched until the man's eyes went from glassy and scared to dull and lifeless. "We need to wrap him up and bury him so that no other Yankees find him, and we need to clean the floor."

Scarlett nodded.

They said the Rosary as they dug the grave under the arbor, and again as they cleaned up the blood in the hallway. After they finally had a chance to sit in mother's office and go over the contents of the Yankee's pockets, Mother sat back and said a prayer of thanksgiving. "There must be close to fifty dollars here, in gold!"

Scarlett's eyes grew wide. "We already had a little..."

Ellen nodded. "I know from talking to your father that Captain Butler left you some sort of nest egg that you've been parting with a dollar or two at a time, but this will certainly help to extend it."

Scarlett nodded. She wasn't sure how to tell Mother, but that wasn't all Captain Butler had left her with. She hated to put the burden on the family of one more mouth to feed and one less set of hands to work at full capacity. She swallowed hard. Now that the crisis was past, she was feeling quite ill. She wasn't given much time to prevaricate. It turned out that Mother had been waiting for some sign, expecting that Scarlett would easily take with child given how short a time it took with her first husband and how long a time her second husband had.

The next morning, Mother and Mammy kept Scarlet in the house and questioned her. When they established all of the symptoms she had, they examined her. Then in an exchange of glances that spanned many combined years of midwifery, they nodded and told Scarlett that it seemed she was indeed with child.

* * *

It wasn't like before. Scarlett couldn't sit idly and mourn as she had the last time. She had to help as much as she could with the farm. Fortunately, by the time she was unable to do much, it was the winter and most of the chores involved keeping warm and fed. There was no husband to mourn, either, just one to worry about. After Christmas, there was one solitary letter to read over and over. Where was he now, and was he safe? Where she spent much of her time in Atlanta sneaking into Melanie's bedroom to read Ashley's letters, now she read and re-read her own letter, wishing it said what Ashley's said one time: _Darling, I'm coming home to you._ Scarlett would imagine the letter said that, and then went to help with whatever needed doing next, humming "When this Cruel War is Over."

April came, and seed was somehow found to plant, although goodness knew how many acres they could manage with just a few people to work and just the Yankee deserter's horse to help. Yet Mother and Pa made their plans, discussing it with Scarlett every day, until suddenly the word came that the war was over. It came with what turned out to be the first of many soldiers passing through. They were all hungry and needed a good bath. Some were sick and needed to be nursed to health before they could travel much farther. Ellen sighed and sent them around back to where Mammy and Dilcey worked out a system within a day or two.

The men were usually covered with vermin and so were not allowed into the house. There was a sort of sick room rigged on the back porch for those who needed to be nursed. Ellen O'Hara, who cared even for those trashy Slatterys, couldn't be dissuaded from caring for the poor heroes of the Glorious Cause. Scarlett, who never could pass a sick bed without hearing Melanie in the back of her head, wondering if someone far away was helping Ashley, assisted her mother with little complaint.

Somehow the cotton was planted. It would be a small crop, but it was a crop, safely in the ground and trusted now to God and nature. Somehow food was found for all the mouths that the family had to feed. One or two of the soldiers would stay for a couple of days and help on the farm in exchange for what the O'Haras were able to give them. The family limped through the month of April and was into May.

One soldier came and never left. Will Benteen was a solid Georgia man, but not of the class of Gerald and certainly far away from Ellen. The war had taken one of his legs, and he had no desire to go back to the home he'd had before. Yet he loved to work the land and took a shine to Tara. He stayed one day and helped with the planting. That day turned into a week and then the cotton was planted and he made some suggestions for some corn. Then there was planting for the kitchen garden. By the time he'd been there a month, he spoke with Gerald, who after a few minutes asked Ellen and Scarlett to join them. Will had offered to stay on, to get the farm going again and perhaps take wages when money was available. It seemed like a Godsend, since Scarlett was by now incapable of doing many tasks beyond tending Wade and occasionally failed at that when exhaustion overcame her.

During the evenings that spring, Scarlett sat on the porch, huge with child, and felt it move. She pictured Rhett as she went through this. Was he the sort of husband to be horrified by the changes to a woman's body, the weight gain, the way various fluids leaked from everywhere, not to mention what it did to one's skin and hair? Or was he the sort of man who would take pride in his increasing wife, who would be amazed by the bumps and kicks of an active child? Rhett did love children. He was so gentle and kind with Wade. She wondered almost every night if Rhett had any idea that he'd left her with child. Remembering his instructions, she decided he'd had an idea of it, perhaps a hope. He'd been very specific, as though he wanted a child. He wanted her to go with the child to Charleston if he never came back. Perhaps she would, if they could ever get ahead of the work at Tara. There was so much to do, and Mother and Pa were so changed. It wasn't just herself that Scarlett didn't quite recognize any more.

May came, and there were more soldiers every day. There was always someone to tend or feed, always someone who needed help. The family did what they could for everyone who stopped by, and everyone left a little better than they came. It was a great deal of work. Scarlett was helping to set the kitchen to rights after breakfast when she suddenly had to sit down.

"What is it?" asked Mammy, who came over and looked Scarlett in the face. Scarlett couldn't answer, and Mammy hollered to Prissy, who was hiding on the back porch. "Prissy, get Miss Scarlett upstairs and into bed. I'll go find Miss Ellen. That baby is coming!"

* * *

A _/N: As I mentioned in my other story, this is not the chapter I'm most proud of ever having written, especially since I flubbed a few things in the last chapter. We're going to pretend that the last chapter was Ellen's POV (since it mostly was) and the problem with continuity is because this chapter is Scarlett's POV, which creates overlap._

 _Once again, I feel the need to point out that this story is not all there in my head. The other two long stories I've written were entirely in my head before I started posting them. For the record, I know exactly how Exes is going to end (Stardust), but in this story I only have the vaguest idea of what's going to happen in the next one or two chapters. I have to do a fair amount of re-reading to keep things consistent but not the same story all over again, and it can be slow going. I know that's less fun for the readers, because it slows_

 _Thanks so much to readers and reviewers, including **Francis-rose, samandfreddie, gabyhyatt, Phantom710, I Dream of Spring, romabeachgirl, Scarlett Rhose, 1life2ROCK, kanga85, , Wiolka, whoknows3, Truckee Gal, Guest 1 & 2, Conlyn70, ****Francis-rose** , and **MissTricey.**_


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